


The Only One

by Jenshih_Blue



Series: Open the Door ~ A Modern Day Fairy Tale in 13 Parts [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:59:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue





	

****

A town of nothing, but people consumed by their greatest sins, leaving all reason and sanity behind. Sam had never seen anything like it before and no matter how much research he’d done it didn’t seem to make any sense. Demons of chaos, creatures of darkness that they’d let out of the very gates of hell, but it wasn’t them that Dean feared if he were to understand the expression in Dean’s eyes.

 

Sam had hoped beyond hope the death of the yellow-eyed demon, he n0w knew was Azazel, if the female demon’s words could be believed, would end his doubts about his destiny. It hadn’t and if anything, the bastard’s death had only changed Dean’s perspective. It hadn’t been the first time that he’d seen Dean look at him with what he could only describe as fear, but rather than it getting better, it seemed to get worse with each passing moment. He wanted to call Dean on those sly glances, on his need to devalue who he was for the sake of his brother.

 

That night after Dean had watched him gun down those two demons without a second thought had been the worse night of his life he thought, worse than the nights in the past when he’d lost his mother, Jess, and his father. He’d lost so much and so had Dean, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t let Dean go. Losing his brother, the man who had been everything to him from mother to father and now his lover was something he couldn’t imagine. He was going to lose Dean, though. The bowels of hell would open, spewing forth its hounds, and they would rip Dean’s soul from his body leaving behind a hollow shell of shredded flesh and broken bone then he would truly be alone.

 

Dean had looked down into their world of darkness and he’d fought both literally and figuratively with his last breath because he believed it was his duty to his family. He’d told Sam just weeks ago in the bright Nebraska sunlight that he was tired, that yes what he’d done was selfish, but after all the sacrifices he’d made for his family he was entitled to be a bit selfish. Those words had torn into Sam’s heart deeper than he’d let Dean see that day or any other since. He couldn’t imagine what Dean had gone through those hours that he’d been dead. Yet he knew what he would suffer in the end if the hounds of hell won.

 

As much as he wanted to deny it some part of Sam knew why Dean looked at him that way. It wasn’t just the idea he would be gone and Sam would be alone, but also the fear what he’d brought back with the crossroads deal was something other than the brother he loved. Dean had no idea where Sam had gone upon his death, no idea what he’d seen, and Sam had no one to blame except himself. How could he explain their mother had come for him as his soul had slipped into the veil? How could he tell Dean he would have crossed over if Dean hadn’t brought him back with a demonic kiss in the middle of lonely crossroad? His brother would be devastated on more levels than he cared to count.

 

Between the machinations of Azazel and that fucking demon, Dean had been trapped in the basement with back in Elizabethville, Sam was certain his brother had begun to wonder. If Sam could he’d resurrect both of the black-eyed bitches and shred them again with maximum bloodshed. And with that simple thought, he came to the sudden realization why Dean had begun to wonder whether what he’d brought back was truly his brother or something far darker. He’d always directed his anger outward in a productive way and now…well, Sam realized since Cold Oak and his resurrection he’d turned it into a violence he’d once abhorred.

 

Dean was right in a way. He’d changed, but it wasn’t because he wasn’t himself. Rather it was because for the first time in a long time Sam was embracing who he was. Denial had been his go-to action for almost as long as he could recall. Fighting against what he’d been raised to be—a hunter—and the man who’d trained him. After John had died he’d realized he was what he was and no matter how hard he fought to escape destiny would always draw him back in.

 

He should have clung to that realization when Ruby’s skanky demon ass should up at the motel as he was packing. Why he hadn’t pulled the trigger the moment she started talking out her ass he had not a clue. Well, a small clue perhaps if he were truthful with himself. The weight of the Colt in his hand had felt righteous and yet he’d allowed her to continue breathing for another day.

 

They’d left Elizabethville in a cloud of dust and were two states away before sunrise the next morning. Tired and suspect of one another after everything that had happened they stopped at the first fleabag motel they’d seen. No words passed either of their lips as they took turns showering and then settled in for the day to get some well-deserved rest as the sun rose higher in the sky. For the first time in weeks, they didn’t share a bed and Sam wasn’t sure if it was because he felt guilty or if Dean had allowed the demons to get to him.

 

Then again, perhaps it was simply they both needed time to process what had happened.

 

After all, Sam had demanded to know what had been said or done in the basement on their way out of town. That conversation would freeze his heart for days to come.

 

***

 

At first, Dean had refused to say shit and that was always the best way to piss off Sam and he damn well knew it. Around the fifty mile mark, he’d finally spoken after letting Sam stew in his own juices for far too long.

 

“His name was Azazel.”

 

“Who?”

 

Dean snorted. “Who the hell do you think, Sam. That yellow-eyed son of a bitch who murdered Mom.”

 

“Who told you that?” he demanded. “That bitch in the basement?”

 

“Of course, who else?” He glanced at Sam from the corner of his eye. “Wasn’t like there was anyone else I was talking to who would know that.”

 

Sam had remained silent for a few minutes and then shifted in the passenger seat. “What else did she tell you?”

 

Without hesitation Dean replied. “Fairy tales from the depths of Hell.”

 

“Fairy tales?” Sam questioned one eyebrow lifting to disappear beneath his bangs. “What the hell does that mean?”

 

“Seems like even demons are stupid enough to believe in a higher power.” Dean shook his head in clear disbelief. “You know she actually spewed some crap about Lucifer.”

 

“Lucifer—like Lucifer in the bible Lucifer?”

 

Dean’s eyebrow lifted this time. “What other Lucifer do you know? Of course Lucifer in the bible. She was trying to tell me he really exists or existed—I have no clue what she was trying to accomplish.”

 

The idea that Lucifer was real sent spikes of fear through his spine. “Did she really believe what she told you?”

 

“Who knows with fucking demons. They have a habit of doing and saying whatever they want to get under our skin. Like the entire demon army thing.” He snorted eyes focused on the road ahead.

 

Sam’s thoughts went back to the cemetery and the devil’s gate in Wyoming. Yes, an army of demons escaped before they sealed it shut, but he had to wonder what Dean was referring to since they’d had no idea until this point what the escaped demons had in mind. He wanted to ask—he did. And yet he was terrified for some reason to do so.

 

Taking a deep breath, Sam let the words he feared more than anything to slip free. “What about the demon army?”

 

“Nothing you have to worry about, Sammy.”

 

“Don’t do that, Dean.” He whispered throat closing up with the fear rising in his gut. “Don’t try to protect me.”

 

Dean turned from the road for a split second. “I’m not…”

 

He shook his head. “Dammit, Dean…it’s too fucking late to try that. I wasn’t the only one Azazel had lined up for leading that army. I wasn’t the only one he left lost and…”

 

Hitting the breaks, Dean swung the Impala to the side of the road, knuckles going white as his grip tightened on the wheel. “I know that, Sam! But he took everything…he killed Mom, he killed Dad, he killed…”

 

“Dean,” Sam turned toward him. “You need to stop taking on the weight of the world. You’re not the only one grieving. I’m still here. You made damn sure of that and they were my parents too.”

 

Head dropping to rest on the steering wheel, Dean let out a ragged breath. “You don’t get it. If I hadn’t brought you back…”

 

“They wouldn’t still be hoping and waiting for a leader.”

 

Dean looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. He didn’t have anything to offer in reply. He simply shifted the car back into drive and hit the road leaving them both wrapped in a cocoon of silence. A silence that left Sam’s gut in a knot for the next couple hundred miles.

 

***

 

The silence still remained.

 

As they lay on their separate beds, backs turned to one another, Sam wondered if this would end in more blood. After all, he was the last of his generation left, the only one still breathing.

 

If Dean meant what he thought, he was far more important to the demon army Jake had released than he might have believed. Azazel had chosen them all for a reason. It didn’t matter if the yellow-eyed bastard was dead. He’d cursed them all with the taste of his demonic blood to discover who would be the leader of the demon army. He’d promised his followers a leader and they had waited a lifetime for the fruition of that promise.

 

It had never mattered how many humans he’d left in his path grieving, lost, and bleeding out. Every lie he’d told himself he tried to believe, but he didn’t. How could he when even Ruby didn’t believe them and demons were black-eyed lie detectors. All Sam had left was his own faith in Heaven and the hope God might shine a light down on him and give him the strength to survive it all.

 

As he drifted off into sleep he swore he heard Dean’s voice, a faint whisper from across the room.

 

“Heaven, please shine a light on him. He doesn’t deserve this. If he looks down into that place he’ll fall and then I failed.”

 

He couldn’t have heard it, he thought.

 

Dean would have never prayed. He didn’t believe in Heaven—did he?

 


End file.
